The Parisians — Complete by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton (best novels ever txt) 📕

and horses; they cost me 600 louis last year,—do you know any one who will give me three?”

“Pooh! I will give you six; your alezan alone is worth half the money!”

“My dear Frederic, I will not sell them to you on any account. But you have so many friends—”

“Who would give their soul to say, ‘I bought these horses of Rochebriant.’ Of course I do. Ha! young Rameau, you are acquainted with him?”

“Rameau! I never heard of him!”

“Vanity of vanities, then what is fame? Rameau is the editor of Le Sens Commun. You read that journal?”

“Yes, it has clever articles, and I remember how I was absorbed in the eloquent romance which appeared in it.”

“Ah! by the Signora Cicogna, with whom I think you were somewhat smitten last year.”

“Last year—was I? How a year can alter a man! But my debt to the Prince. What has Le Sens Commun to do with my horses?”

“I met Rameau at Savarin’s the other evening. He was making himself out a hero and a martyr! his coupe had been taken from him to assist in a barricade in that senseless emeute ten days ago; the coupe got smashed, the horses disappeared. He will buy one of your horses and coupe.

“Leave it to me! I know where to dispose of the other two horses. At what hour do you want the money?”

“Before I go to dinner at the club.”

“You shall have it within two hours; but you must not dine at the club to-day. I have a note from Duplessis to invite you to dine with him to-day!”

“Duplessis! I know so little of him!”

“You should know him better. He is the only man who can give you sound advice as to this difficulty with Louvier; and he will give it the more carefully and zealously because he has that enmity to Louvier which one rival financier has to another. I dine with him too. We shall find an occasion to consult him quietly; he speaks of you most kindly. What a lovely girl his daughter is!”

“I dare say. Ah! I wish I had been less absurdly fastidious. I wish I had entered the army as a private soldier six months ago; I should have been a corporal by this time! Still it is not too late. When Rochebriant is gone, I can yet say with the Mouszquetaire in the melodrame: ‘I am rich—I have my honour and my sword!’”

“Nonsense! Rochebriant shall be saved; meanwhile I hasten to Rameau. Au revoir, at the Hotel Duplessis—seven o’clock.”

Lemercier went, and in less than two hours sent the Marquis bank-notes for 600 louis, requesting an order for the delivery of the horses and carriage.

That order written and signed, Alain hastened to acquit himself of his debt of honour, and contemplating his probable ruin with a lighter heart presented himself at the Hotel Duplessis.

Duplessis made no pretensions to vie with the magnificent existence of Louvier. His house, though agreeably situated and flatteringly styled the Hotel Duplessis, was of moderate size, very unostentatiously furnished; nor was it accustomed to receive the brilliant motley crowds which assembled in the salons of the elder financier.

Before that year, indeed, Duplessis had confined such entertainments as he gave to quiet men of business, or a few of the more devoted and loyal partisans of the Imperial dynasty; but since Valerie came to live with him he had extended his hospitalities to wider and livelier circles, including some celebrities in the world of art and letters as well as of fashion. Of the party assembled that evening at dinner were Isaura, with the Signora Venosta, one of the Imperial Ministers, the Colonel whom Alain had already met at Lemercier’s supper, Deputes (ardent Imperialists), and the Duchesse de Tarascon; these, with Alain and Frederic, made up the party. The conversation was not particularly gay. Duplessis himself, though an exceedingly well-read and able man, had not the genial accomplishments of a brilliant host. Constitutionally grave and habitually taciturn—though there were moments in which he was roused out of his wonted self into eloquence or wit—he seemed to-day absorbed in some engrossing train of thought. The Minister, the Deputes and the Duchesse de Tarascon talked politics, and ridiculed the trumpery emeute of the 14th; exulted in the success of the plebiscite; and admitting, with indignation, the growing strength of Prussia, and—with scarcely less indignation, but more contempt, censuring the selfish egotism of England in disregarding the due equilibrium of the European balance of power,—hinted at the necessity of annexing Belgium as a set-off against the results of Sadowa.

Alain found himself seated next to Isaura—to the woman who had so captivated his eye and fancy on his first arrival in Paris.

Remembering his last conversation with Graham nearly a year ago, he felt some curiosity to ascertain whether the rich Englishman had proposed to her, and if so, been refused or accepted.

The first words that passed between them were trite enough, but after a little pause in the talk, Alain said:

“I think Mademoiselle and myself have an acquaintance in common-Monsieur Vane, a distinguished Englishman. Do you know if he be in Paris at present? I have not seen him for many months.”

“I believe he is in London; at least, Colonel Morley met the other day a friend of his who said so.”

Though Isaura strove to speak in a tone of indifference, Alain’s ear detected a ring of pain in her voice; and watching her countenance, he was impressed with a saddened change in its expression. He was touched, and his curiosity was mingled with a gentler interest as he said “When I last saw M. Vane I should have judged him to be too much under the spell of an enchantress to remain long without the pale of the circle she draws around her.”

Isaura turned her face quickly towards the speaker, and her lips moved, but she said nothing audibly.

“Can there have been quarrel or misunderstanding?” thought Alain; and after that question his heart asked itself, “Supposing Isaura were free, her affections disengaged, could he wish to woo and to win her?” and his heart answered—“Eighteen months ago thou wert nearer to her than now. Thou wert removed from her for ever when thou didst accept the world as a barrier between you; then, poor as thou wert, thou wouldst have preferred her to riches. Thou went then sensible only of the ingenuous impulses of youth, but the moment thou saidst, ‘I am Rochebriant, and having once owned the claims of birth and station, I cannot renounce them for love, Isaura became but a dream. Now that ruin stares thee in the face—now that thou must grapple with the sternest difficulties of adverse fate—thou hast lost the poetry of sentiment which could alone give to that dream the colours and the form of human life.” He could not again think of that fair creature as a prize that he might even dare to covet. And as he met her inquiring eyes, and saw her quivering lip, he felt instinctively that Graham was dear to her, and that the tender interest with which she inspired himself